Eugenia
by Antosha
Summary: A new addition throws the Trio into a tizzy: what to name her! (HermioneHarryRon)


**Eugenia**

It was infuriating, it truly was. Since Ginny had confirmed that the baby was definitely a girl, the boys had committed the unpardonable sin not once but three times: they'd awoken a last-trimester Hermione with their bickering.

Infuriating was hardly the word for it.

They had been fighting over the name the last time. Strictly speaking, Harry hadn't been bickering, he had been sulking. In typical Harry fashion, he had announced that he thought it appropriate that their child be named Lily, and had left it at that--well, that, and broadcasting loud silence whenever another possibility was mentioned. It had been Ron who had done most of the bickering. _He_ had insisted that they should name the baby after _his _mother, who, they were astonished to discover, was actually named Boudicca; like Ginny, Molly was actually her middle name.

Hermione had been so depressed by the battle that she had been unwilling to enter the fray and suggest her own beloved grandmother's name. She had merely told them both that they were being childish, morbid... and obscenely inconsiderate, given how hard it was for her to sleep, in her distended state.

They'd all agreed, finally, that the last name should be Potter-Weasley. As Hermione had patiently explained, no one would ever question who the child's mother was. Given the unconventional domestic arrangement, it seemed sensible to make Ron and Harry's joint fatherhood very clear. And Weasley-Potter sounded too much like something Malfoy would have had fun with, so Potter-Weasley it would be. But they'd never settled on a given name, and Hermione despaired of coming to any kind of consensus.

This evening, awakened for the _fourth _time, Hermione tried hard to get back to sleep, but it was impossible. Harry was the one doing the insisting, and his voice had a desperate undertone to it that set Hermione's teeth on edge, even as it broke her heart. That, and mild contractions where reminding her of pain soon to come.

"Have a heart, Ron. You're surrounded by people who are yours. You've always had blood kin. The only relations I've ever known were Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Tom Riddle. Can you blame me for hoping she comes out with black hair and green eyes?"

"Harry, mate," Ron wheedled, "everything you've ever had has been yours. I know it's hard, but your life is full of one-of-kind this and unique that. I've had to share bloody everything--even you with Hermy and Hermy with you. I just want a child that I know is mine."

"I've always shared you and Hermione," Harry sighed.

Ron sighed, an octave lower. "Maybe it'll be a red-head--that could be either one of us."

"Nah," Harry muttered. "Linked gene--remember what Hermy said? If my mum had passed red on to me, I'd have come out auburn or dark brown, not black-haired."

"Well," Hermione said, as tartly as she could manage, rolling over and staring down at them, where they were sitting against the bottom posts of the bed, "I'm glad one of you actually listened to _something _I said, even if it wasn't the bit about not waking me, _or _the bit about never calling me that _bloody_ name...."

They both gaped at her, clearly deeply sorry that they'd disturbed her sleep. Then they both looked at each other and smiled. "But _Hermy..."_

She growled, and tried to sit up--not an easy task when you're carrying an extra eighteen kilos. "Look, you two, you know I only put up with it from Grawp because he couldn't handle anything more than two syllables at a time. Now if one of my child's fathers isn't able to do better than _that..."_

They both laughed, and climbed up the bed to either side of her, kissing her as they came.

"That's more like it," she said, trying to sound just as arch, trying not to sound as if she were about to giggle. "In the first place, the two of you know perfectly well we have no way of knowing whose sperm it actually was." That night was a bit of a blur for all three of them. "In the second place, what difference does it really make? And in the third place, I'm tired, you've woken me, and I expect the two of you to make me comfy."

Hands began to grope.

"No, not _that _way, you adolescent nitwits." Hermione did giggle, finally, even as her annoyance blossomed. "Yes, I know, it's supposed to encourage the softening of the cervix, but I told you, I'm tired, and I have no interest in _rewarding_ the two of you for waking me."

The hands continued to explore, and lips.

"Oh, _fine_." She pushed down on both of them, lifting herself laboriously up and climbing out of the bed.. "I'm going to take a bath. I've been learning some hexes down on the ninth floor that I will happily use on whichever reprobate..."

An implosion of pain sucked her in. It felt as if every muscle in her lower body was attempting to pull itself loose from her skeleton all at once. "_Bloody HELL_" she howled.

When awareness returned, it brought a sweet smell, the sight of both boys gaping at her in concern, the trickle of some fluid down her legs, and the sound of her own disembodied voice saying, "I think it's time to call Ginny, don't you?"

Some fifteen hours later, Hermione was in bed again--a different bed--a baby happily attempting to nurse, Ginny gingerly attempting to heal some of the damage occasioned by the baby's arrival, and a feeling of exhausted fulfillment suffusing her weary, untethered body.

Their faces glowing with awe and a kind of fear she had never seen in them, not even during the years when they were risking their lives on a regular basis, the boys were whispering again, at the foot of the hospital bed. This time the conversation involved a lot of mutual nodding, and so she happily left them to it.

"How you doing?" asked Ginny as she banished the last stained sheet with a flick of her wand.

"Wonderful," sighed Hermione. "Hurts, but it feels wonderful."

Ginny smiled. "Sort of like losing your virginity, only a thousand times more so."

"Hmmm. That's just right.... I do feel a bit like a sail someone's forgotten to pull in...."

Laughing, Ginny cast a spell, and Hermione felt the muscles in her abdomen tighten gently. "I'd better move up there," the healer said, looking around to Ron and Harry, who were still deep in conference. "If I keep playing with your bottom, Ron's going to start turning green soon."

"Keep playing with my bottom, and you're going to make Harry very happy," Hermione joked, surprised she had it in her.

"Well," Ginny said with a smirk, "we can't have that. Especially as poor Neville would be broken-hearted to have missed it."

"Hmmm." Hermione was focused down on the baby. Wheat hair, cornflower eyes. "Neville?"

Ginny prodded at Hermione's exposed breast. "Oh, good, you're expressing collostrum... My lovely husband and our lovely sons are out in the waiting room with the rest of the horde. Mmm. You should be letting down properly in the next few days..."

"Horde?" Hermione asked, fatigue pulling at her.

Ginny's face twisted into a bemused smile as she backed up and removed her no-longer white healer's robes. "These two were taking turns helping you and sending owls." She turned to Harry and Ron. "I can probably hold them off for another twenty minutes. You might want to get to know your new daughter."

The boys looked up at Ginny and--without even getting up--pulled her into a stifling hug.

"Thanks, sis," Ron said.

Ginny turned a deep Weasley red, muttered, "You're welcome," and tried to extricate herself.

Once her friend had fought free, Hermione looked down to where her child's fathers were sitting, looks of unaccustomed solemnity on their faces. "Owls?" she asked.

The serious expressions melted to sheepishiness--one Hermione was much more familiar with. Ron murmured, "Well, I contacted my family..."

"And I sent owls to your folks. And. One or two others. Friends and such," Harry said.

Ginny laughed. "Both sets of grandparents have been out there for hours. They're positively vibrating. Fred and George, Angelina and Alicia are there--watch the stuffed animals, we're still removing hexes on the ones they gave Mycroft. Charlie dragged Tonks--I think he's trying to scare the idea of kids and marriage out of her. Bill and Percy sent their regrets. A couple of your Unspeakable friends, whose names I can never remember. Seamus is passing around a flask of Finnegans Firewhiskey. Oh, and Lavender and Parvati wanted to know if you needed help with a name."

Ron moaned. Harry said, "No, we don't need help."

Ginny laughed again, and so did Hermione, shaking the nipple out of the baby's mouth, which set her thinly wailing. "Well," Ginny said, once Hermione had settled her back on the breast, "I'd better go try and keep the natives from becoming too restless. See you lot in a bit," Ginny said as she left the room.

Ron and Harry seemed to have rematerialized on either side of the bed, looking at the baby so adoringly that what was left of Hermione's middle started to melt.

"She's...." Harry looked for the word and failed.

"Beautiful," Ron supplied, and it was a judgment they both seemed content with.

Hermione found tears dripping down from her nose onto the fine fair hair. "I was blonde till I was three or so," she said, looking up at them, "and Caucasian babies often start with blue eyes...."

"Doesn't matter," Ron sighed.

"Not at all," Harry agreed.

Hermione cried some more.

"And about the name," Harry said. "We were thinking, maybe..."

The two of them looked to each other, then to her. Together they said, "Hermy?"

When Hermione's jaw dropped, they both laughed. "Sorry," Harry said. "Just kidding."

Ron ran his fingers through the baby's hair. "Actually, we wanted to ask you something." He looked up to Harry.

"We were actually thinking," Harry said, resting a finger on the infant's cheek, still stained by birth, "of asking you what you might think...." He looked into her eyes, then up at Ron.

"We wondered if you'd thought of naming her after your grandmother."

Hermione looked down at the miniscule miracle that was snoring at her incredibly sore breast. "Eugenia," she said, tears flowing again.


End file.
